


"Netflix and Chill"

by newtypeshadow



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Asexual Rey, Asexual Rey (Star Wars), M/M, Misunderstandings, Netflix and Chill, Pining, Platonic Cuddling, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 02:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10402047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtypeshadow/pseuds/newtypeshadow
Summary: When Finn asks Poe over to watch Netflix and chill, Poe enthusiastically agrees. He knows what this means: Finn definitely wants Poe, and by accepting, Poe’s said he definitely wants Finn back. They’re finally gonna do this.Except that Finn, bless his troglodyte little heart, doesnotknow inviting someone over to "watch Netflix and chill” is basically code for saying, “Hey, wanna come over and have sex?”Poe really should've known.





	

Finn, bless his troglodyte little heart, does not know the phrase “Netflix and chill.”

Poe finds this out the hard way, after he’s enthusiastically accepted Finn’s invitation over the phone, and cleaned up real nice, because _finally_ Finn’s put his cards on the table—they both have. No more mixed signals. Finn definitely wants Poe, and Poe’s said he definitely wants Finn back. They’re gonna do this. Make out, maybe have sex, maybe have more if Poe can coax Finn into an official date instead of whatever it is they’re officially doing now.

And sure, Poe does think it’s a little backwards that sweet, genuine Finn, who bluntly says what he feels where others would be embarrassed by such honesty; Finn, who calls his kindergarteners “his kids” and puts their handprints on his apartment fridge like a proud parent; Finn, who was raised to bare all to his “family” (and fight and die to protect them, god) and still does it automatically with the family he’s chosen for himself, so that he’s painfully open with Poe whenever he speaks; _this_ Finn is the person who asked him, casually, obliquely, if Poe’d like to “come over to watch Netflix and chill.”

Poe should’ve known Finn wasn’t being coy.

Poe also should’ve suspected Finn wasn’t around the internet enough to have heard the phrase used as code. It’s just, Finn is so smart and so _normal_ most of the time, so at ease in the city nowadays, and he has a _Netflix_ account (okay, so it’s _Poe’s_ Netflix account), and they text each other from the faculty lounges of their sister schools all the time, and so Poe often forgets there are things Finn doesn’t know about the modern world.

If it were someone else, Poe might’ve felt judgmental: how can you be a twenty-something and _not_ have a single social media account? How have you _not_ seen that video on YouTube? That link you sent me was on Facebook almost four months ago, so it’s been old news for at least _twice_ that long—how was it news to you?

Thing is, Finn has a pretty good excuse for all that. Being kidnapped, brainwashed, and raised by a backwater cult with a technology ban but plenty of guns and paranoia wasn’t something a lot of people came back from _with_ help—yet Finn had escaped and come back with police, all in the hopes he could save his friend Slip. (He couldn’t.) Then he’d dragged himself into modernity, made a life and a home and a family for himself, tried to cram in as much information and experience as he could, trying to catch up to the years and years people like Poe took for granted.

So maybe Poe should’ve questioned a little further before he hung up the phone—definitely before he fist-pumped the air with a shout and started worrying about boxers or boxer-briefs.

And in hindsight, Poe realizes Finn’s probably only learned the innocent definition of “Netflix and chill,” because he and Rey watch Netflix together at her place all the time, and Rey will never Netflix-and-chill-as-code-for-sex with _anyone_ , ever. Poe knows they do this—he’s _joined_ them before!

But Poe doesn’t register any of that until he shows up at Finn’s apartment, bottle of mead in hand; it’s Finn’s current favorite wine alternative. Poe is freshly shaven, his curls are artfully mussed, he’s wearing his favorite leather jacket over a tight, geeky t-shirt with a black X-Wing on it…and Finn answers the door in house sweats and a ratty purple t-shirt, looking tired as shit.

“Wow, you look nice!” Finn says, eying Poe appreciatively—but not nervously or like he intends to do anything about it. “You know we’re staying in, right?” Now he looks hesitant. “Unless you want to go somewhere?”

Poe intimately knows the look of a self-sacrificing idiot when he sees it, and nips that in the bud. “No way, buddy—I’m all for staying in.” He hands Finn the mead to watch his dark eyes light up, then follows him inside the sparse, yet lovingly decorated, military-grade neat apartment. “Just wanted to look nice is all,” Poe continues. “Think I can call this ‘geek chic’?” He flashes his t-shirt at Finn with a wink, then strikes a pose.

Finn laughs, as Poe hoped, and walks past the stairwell and into the small kitchen. “Food should get here in twenty minutes. I got your usual from the Thai place—I hope that’s okay.”

“That’s fine. I brought cash.”

Finn waves a hand and cracks open the seal on the bottle before re-closing it and pulling down two glasses. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. Poe feels encouraged until he continues, “You pay for my food all the time.”

The evening sky and streetlights filter in through the cracked blinds facing the living room couch. They sit close like they always do, Finn sitting against the arm on the end and pulling Poe onto the middle cushion beside him. Finn leans into Poe’s shoulder as he props his bare feet on the coffee table, and then grins, far too close—not close enough—and says, “Can we watch more of that show with the good guy criminals?”

Poe shrugs. “Whatever you want—it’s your Netflix account.”

Finn tilts his head back into the couch. “Technically, it’s _your_ Netflix account. Thanks again, by the way.”

“No problem, buddy,” Poe says, and pats Finn’s knee—because Poe is tactile, Finn will probably always be touch-starved, and Poe is clearly a masochist when it comes to Finn.

Finn grabs the remote and pulls up Netflix, then leans over Poe’s legs to grab the blanket against the opposite arm of the couch. Poe raises placating eyes to the heaven that has clearly turned its back on him, because Finn is showing signs of an aggressive cuddling session and nothing else, and looks a little under the weather besides, and Poe thought they’d finally gotten their feelings on the same page. But heaven shows no mercy, and Finn thumps back into his seat. Poe uses the time Finn takes tucking the blanket around his feet to pull off his leather jacket and drape it over the empty couch cushion. Between Finn’s body running hot and his body _being_ hot and that making Poe’s blood run hot too, Poe’s pretty sure he won’t need it.

Finn grunts when he collapses back into Poe’s side, and glares briefly at his shoulder before returning his attention to the TV.

“Sorry, buddy—did I elbow you?” Poe knows full well he didn’t, but doesn’t want to press in case Finn doesn’t want to talk. After all, Finn hasn’t volunteered why his dark skin seems a little pale this evening, nor why his eyes look bruised with fatigue. Poe knows Finn’s kids get him sick a lot since First Order cult life didn’t expose him to the common illnesses adults built up antibodies for as children; Poe can tell it embarrasses Finn that he doesn’t always know what to do to treat them, and sometimes it’s hard for him to ask for help, even knowing Poe will give it unconditionally.

But Finn seems self-conscious at best, and freely says, “I got my first flu shot ever yesterday, and it still feels like someone punched me.”

“Yeah, well, you _look_ like you need to take some sick days and spend ‘em in bed, just sleeping and being spoon-fed soup.” Poe’s only half-joking.

“You volunteering?” Finn says, grinning wide and bright even though he still looks sallow.

“Why, you want me to?” Poe counters.

Finn snorts, then nudges Poe’s arm. “Poe,” he half whines.

Poe chuckles and rolls his eyes, but obligingly moves his arm out of the way, rests it on the back of the couch for all of three and a half seconds while Finn snuggles closer…and then gives in and winds it around Finn’s shoulders instead.

Finn pulls up the next episode of _Leverage_ on his profile, and they start the episode comfortably close as an old married couple, Poe resting his cheek against Finn’s short, tight curls while Finn sprawls somewhere between sitting on Poe and the couch, blanket draped over his legs and dangling onto the floor.

*

Their food arrives ten minutes into the episode. Poe eats his Pad Thai through the fight scene in the kitchen, and Finn steadily drains his rice soup that tastes delicious, and that Poe needs to get the name of for next time they order. As the episode winds down, Poe suddenly drops his carryout box and fork onto the coffee table and grips Finn’s knee. “Oh my god!”

Finn freezes. “What?” His eyes dart around, then latch back onto Poe’s. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so sorry, Finn,” Poe says, voice dripping with sincerity, “I forgot: I should be feeding you that.” Poe grins and reaches for Finn’s tub of soup.

Finn’s shoulders relax. “Fuck you, Poe,” he says with a grin.

“…Because you’re an invalid and I care about you,” Poe continues with a shit-eating grin, fingers landing lightly on Finn’s where they’re clamped possessively onto his warm dinner.

“You’re such an asshole.” But Finn’s laughing, and Poe’s chest flutters at the way Finn’s head tilts back like he just can’t contain the beautiful sound of it.

“Damn,” Poe says softly, breathlessly, dropping his hands and just watching for long moments. “You, uh—” He clears his throat as if it will clear his head (it doesn’t. It never does), but the gravelly pitch leaves his voice, at least. “You figured me out. And I was doing so well!”

Finn’s grinning now, and Poe notices they missed the beginning of the next episode, but doesn’t want to ruin the mood by pointing it out.

“You’re not really an asshole,” Finn tells him, somewhat apologetically.

“I kind of am sometimes,” Poe admits, “but you still like me.” He plucks his glass of mead from the table and takes a sip, washing down the taste of noodles and chicken before he takes a slower sip to enjoy the honeyed flavor.

When he looks back at Finn, Poe finds he’s being studied with the heated focus he’s taken to mean Finn _wants_ him. It sends a coil of heat through him, straight into his boxer-briefs (Poe knows they highlight the curve of his ass, and he was dressing to “Netflix _and chill_ ” before he realized Finn meant it platonically, because fuck his life). “I do like you,” Finn says, voice a little husky. “I don’t share my food with just _anybody_ , you know.” He licks his lips.

Poe bites his own, eyes following the movement of Finn’s tongue. “Well,” he says, thumb unconsciously stroking his fork, “I don’t agree to ‘Netflix and chill’ with just anybody, so I guess that means I like you too.”

The thick tension eases a bit when Finn mock-snorts and shakes his head with his Teacher Face on. “What the hell was that grammar?” He chuckles. “Why’d you say it like, ‘Netflix and chill’? I could _feel_ the quotes, Poe. You even raised your eyebrows.”

“Did I really?”

“I _definitely_ saw you! C’mon, spit it out. It’s slang, isn’t it. What’s ‘Netflix and chill’ supposed to mean?” Finn’s eyes are bright and amused, like he’s waiting for the punchline of Poe’s joke.

Poe winces instead. “I did, didn’t I,” he says, eyes dropping for a moment to his dangling fork. His ears are burning, and he feels distinctively less flirtatious than he did seconds ago. “Uh, so. Okay. This might get a little awkward, but it’s not your fault. It’s totally my fault. I should’ve known you didn’t meant it like that. And we don’t have to do anything different than we are, okay? I don’t expect you to…do anything.” Poe puts his fork in his takeout container—or maybe he drops it, they’re pretty much the same thing. “I promise,” he tells Finn, “as long as you’re happy, I’m happy, okay?” Poe runs a nervous hand through his hair while he gathers the courage to stop babbling and just explain things already, then worries he’s made his hair less attractively mussed than nervous-wreck wrecked. Too late now to fix it though…and Finn’s looks somehow paler, if that’s even possible.

Finn’s put down his soup and curled his hands over his knees, angled himself to face Poe. “Okay, I’m ready,” he says. “Tell me.” His shoulders are hunched, and he’s got his full body “I’ve done something wrong but I don’t know what it was and I’m sorry but I’ll fix it if you just tell me how” expression going on.

Poe’s nerves swiftly take a backseat. He needs to never make Finn look like that, _ever_. He squeezes Finn’s hand before thinking better of it, but then Finn flips his hand and grips back, and now Poe can’t just pull away, so he leaves their hands linked and pretends it’s not helping him too when Finn rests them back on his knee.

“Okay, buddy,” Poe says, and makes himself meet Finn’s worried, shadowed eyes. He reminds himself: that look is _his_ fault. “So, people who’re dating—and people who’re hooking up—will sometimes invite each other over to ‘watch Netflix and chill.’ With the understanding that they probably won’t remember what they watched on Netflix, because they’ll be busy making out or having sex. Inviting someone to ‘watch Netflix and chill’ is basically asking if they want to come have sex.” There, it’s done. Poe’s nerves re-take the wheel as he tries to decipher Finn’s inscrutable expression. Finn doesn’t look scared anymore, so there’s that, at least. 

Finn’s hand has stopped gripping so hard, and Poe lets his fingers go limp in case Finn’s trying to let go. “So,” Finn says, “when I asked you to come over, you thought I meant…”

“Yeah.” Poe winces again. “I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. Like I said, I don’t expect you to do anything, or want anything, and I can go if—”

Finn re-tightens his grip, as if worried Poe plans to leave right this second, and pulls their joined hands closer to his body. “It’s fine,” he says quickly, “I’m not. I didn’t know it meant anything else.” He frowns and looks at their hands. “I’m sorry if you felt tricked into coming here.”

“No! Finn, that’s not—no.” Poe tugs at Finn until he meets his eyes, wills him to see that he’s sincere. “You’re my friend, and I care about my friends. You could never want anything more from me your whole life, and I’d still— _always_ —be happy to hang out with you.” He winks, affects a cocky grin. “I warned you that first day in the teachers’ lounge: once you’ve been adopted by a Dameron, you’re stuck with us. We friendship for life.”

Finn jerks like Poe shocked the laugh out of him. “I do remember that,” he says with a fond shake of his head. “I didn’t think you were serious.”

“We Damerons are _always_ serious,” Poe says archly.

“Sure, _that’s_ the word,” Finn says, but he’s grinning again, and Poe feels something in him relax. After a moment, though, Finn’s amusement gives way to a look of nervous resolution. “So, okay. Poe. When you said yes, did you want us to be like the people who hook up, or like the people who date?”

Shit shit shit. Poe wants to hedge, put the ball back in Finn’s court, say “Whatever you want’s okay with me” like he means it, but Finn asked Poe what he _wants_. Poe sucks in a breath. If Finn was brave enough to ask, Poe can be brave enough to answer. “I want us to date,” he admits quietly. “I want to take you out, and hold your hand on the street, and be there when you experience new things, and kiss you while we chill and watch Netflix. I really like how we are. I just want us to be _more_. But only if you want that too.” He pats Finn’s thigh lightly with their clasped hands. “That’s what I wanted when I said yes.”

Finn’s smiling at him. It’s small, but it feels soft and light and private—Poe’s never seen this smile before. And Finn’s dark eyes are shining. “Okay,” Finn tells him. “Let’s do that then.” And he nods, and slouches back into Poe’s side on the couch. “If that’s okay with you?”

Poe’s stupid face won’t stop smiling a stupid, probably unattractive grin, but he can’t help it right now—Finn wants to do this, wants to be an _us_ with Poe. And maybe they won’t make out on the couch while they watch Netflix tonight (Finn really does look unwell), but if they’re dating—they’re definitely dating, Poe is 100% dating Finn right now—there will be other couch cuddles, other Netflixes, and other chills. “Of course it’s okay with me,” Poe says, and raises their joined hands to press a light kiss to the inside of Finn’s wrist.

Finn gasps softly, and gazes with wonder at his own wrist, like it’s suddenly become a new and precious thing.

Poe feels charmed down to his toes.

He lets go of Finn’s hand to tuck the blanket around Finn’s feet, and wraps his arm back around Finn’s shoulders.

Then he clears his throat. When Finn looks up at him, still starry eyed, Poe says, “So,” and waggles his eyebrows in an exaggerated leer. “More Netflix and chill?”

Finn ducks his head and groans, but then he starts laughing, and Poe gets lost in the sound and the velvet column of his throat. Poe doesn’t even feel embarrassed when Finn catches him looking and smirks, all cocky, and then re-starts the episode.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, do let me know via comments or kudos—they seriously make my day. ^_^


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